


Meant for More

by littlereyofsunlight



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Helpful like a gerbil, Peggy!Cap, Skinny!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7104049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlereyofsunlight/pseuds/littlereyofsunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve comes to Camp Lehigh not as a recruit, but as a secretary for Doctor Erskine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Begun on steggyweek2k16 day 6: Skinny!Steve and/or Peggy!Cap (it's just turned out a bit longer than my usual fics.)

“Here, Erskine, I found you an assistant. He can help you out, like, er,” Colonel Phillips eyed his charge balefully. He’d intervened before the kid could get arrested for falsifying information at the recruitment center in Queens. “Like a gerbil.” Well, the kid kinda looked like one, anyways.

Erskine peered at him from over the top of his glasses with the look he’d perfected over the last few weeks of this project. He made that noise in the back of his throat, the one that Phillips knew meant an argument was coming.

“Look, Doc, you were the one asking for an extra hand around here. He’s two extra hands. Take him or he’s going with the MP for lying on his forms.” Now Erskine turned his skeptical gaze on the Rogers kid.

“A rule-breaker, eh? I may have use for you.” He smirked, the closest Phillips had seen the man to a smile in all the months he’d known him.

The kid squared his shoulders and held out his hand, “Steve Rogers, sir. I’m happy to serve my country in any way I can.”

Erskine waved him off and turned back to his notes, “Yes, yes, and stay out of jail, too, I’m sure.”

Wide-eyed little Rogers looked back at Phillips, who shrugged and left him standing there in Erskine’s cramped office.

 

All told, it was really one of the better jobs Steve had worked. Not too much physical exertion, three square meals a day, housing provided. His days are filled with taking notes and listening to Dr. Erskine, who really was a genius, mutter theories half to himself. Once, he’d lost a train of thought and Steve, who’d been straining to hear it all, as it would make for a fascinating story to tell Bucky later, picked up the thread for him and helped him back on track. 

The men they were evaluating were mostly okay, though Steve was frankly surprised to see so many strong, upright young fellas who hadn’t been sent overseas yet. No wonder he’d kept getting rejected. The front runner, Hodge, was a nasty piece of work, though. Steve kept well out of his way.

There’s a woman on the project, too, an Agent Carter. From what he can tell, she works for Colonel Phillips in much the same capacity as Steve works for Erskine. She seemed to dislike Hodge just as much as Steve did; she’d laid him out in the mud with a hell of a punch on the first day of training. That certainly made Steve sit up and take notice. Already in quiet moments, he found himself sketching her dark, canny eyes, the knowing quirk of her full red lips. Already he knows he’s fully gone on her. Erskine’s noticed, of course, the good doctor misses nothing, except occasionally his glasses when they’re sitting on top of his head. He’s made a few encouraging comments to Steve, never in the presence of anyone else, thankfully. He knows how he stacks up against any other man on base. He’ll continue to get by on his own just fine.

Still, he finds himself alone with her every so often, compiling notes, swapping lists between Phillips and Erskine. He tries making small talk, but as always he’s awkward, the conversation stilted. Steve would love to know what made her choose this particular branch of service, but it comes out as a chauvinist comment about her looks. He could crawl under the lab table and die right there. As he flails, she watches him carefully with her unfathomable eyes, but the look on her face isn’t unkind. 

Steve knows Dr. Erskine is working on a serum, the calculations and theories he brought with him when he fled Germany. He explained to Steve how he’d been researching a genetic cure to common ailments like asthma, a way to rewrite the basic structure of the human body without starting from scratch. When the Third Reich came to power, Hitler compelled him to use his theories to make a superman, the Germanic ideal. The trials all failed, and Erskine had barely escaped with his life. Now he’d been compelled to continue his efforts for the Allied Forces, and Steve could see how conflicted the doctor was. Still, whatever the reservations, they needed something to help turn the tide of the war. Erskine’s serum might be just the ticket.

“Okay, pal. You say you need radiation, I’ll get you all set up. We just can’t do it out here in cow country,” Howard Stark took a look around the cramped office, his eyes sliding right past Steve Rogers like he was invisible.

“Whyever not, Mr. Stark?” Erskine hated to even leave his little lab, let alone the army base. Late one night, he confided to Steve that he thought some of HItler’s operatives might have tracked him down. It was why he’d insisted Steve be trained with firearms and be issued a sidearm even though it wasn’t standard for pencil-pushers to have them. Steve may be color-blind, but his eyesight is fair and he’s not a half-bad shot. Not as good as Bucky, to be sure, but he thinks he could protect the Doctor, if it ever came down to that. Even with the entire Atlantic between them, Erskine still fears reprisal for his failure and defection, still feels the guilt of leaving behind family members he could never have saved in the first place. 

“Not enough power out here. We’ve gotta use a lot of juice for what you’ve described. And since you’re no Frankenstein, we’re not gonna wait for a thunderstorm to charge up the batteries. If we set up in the city, I can tap into the extensive power grid.” Stark chewed on the end of his pencil, looking down at his notes. “I’ve got just the place in mind, a little hidey-hole in Brooklyn the SSR has been using for counter-intelligence. There’s an underground bunker that should be big enough to hold the equipment, and I won’t have to…”

“Brooklyn?” Steve piped up, “We’re going to Brooklyn?” Maybe he could look in on his old place. Old Mrs. Jenkins had promised to hold it for him and Bucky while they served. He knew she’d let it out to some women who’d come in from the country to work in the shipyard for now. But they wouldn’t know any of the building’s quirks, and he’d had to leave so suddenly, he hadn’t left a note or anything. If he could get an afternoon, maybe once the procedure was done, he could look in on her, make sure things were still running smoothly. 

Stark looks blankly at him, then turns away, muttering to himself about joules. Erskine catches Steve’s eye and shrugs before shooing him out the door. “Let Agent Carter know we have some requests, please, Steven. If she could join us at her convenience.”

“She? Agent? We’ve got a dame in this godforsaken place?” Now Stark could see Steve as he hesitated in the doorway. “Never mind her convenience, tell her she’s needed immediately and that I could use a good stiff brandy.”

Steve curled his fists but only nodded curtly at Dr. Erskine. This time of night, he was likely to find Agent Carter training in the gymnasium. He watched her pummel the heavy bag for a moment, superimposing Stark’s mug on it just for a laugh. “Agent Carter?”

She kept right on, whether she heard him or not. That was one of the things he found so impressive about her: single-minded, focused in the extreme, even with all the ways the men on base tried to distract her. Agent Carter was here to work, and to do it well. She was here because she knew it would help them win.

He stepped closer, trying not to notice the way her simple white undershirt clung to her damp back. She landed punch after punch in quick succession, breathing hard. A stray curl had escaped the complicated ‘do she’d put her hair in, and stuck to the side of her cheek where sweat poured down. Half the men in the program didn’t push themselves as hard as Agent Carter pushed herself. She kept her head down, a scowl on her face. Steve had never seen her smile, he realized with a start. She came close, once or twice, with Erskine, the respect and admiration shining clear in her eyes, but never an outright smile.

“Agent Carter!” She showed no signs of stopping, and while Steve was happy to make Stark wait, he didn’t want to spend much longer watching her without her knowing. It felt wrong, to be able to look as much as he liked without her frank gaze assessing him as well. He edged closer to the mat. Suddenly, she stopped, pushing the bag away with both hands and making a noise somewhere between a sob and a snarl. As it swung back at her, she jumped up to plant both boots on it in a powerful front kick that set the bag rocking wildly on its chain and landed her flat on her back on the floor. She didn’t move. 

“Agent Carter?” Steve rushed over, “Are you all right?” 

Her eyes were wide and wild, and her mouth opened as she gasped shallowly for a breath. Steve guessed she must have knocked the wind out when she hit the ground. He knelt at her side, wanting to reach out but unsure where to put his hands. As she managed to drag air into her lungs, she started laughing. She laughed and gasped for a while, Steve sitting awkwardly beside her until he finally joined in, caught up in the absurdity of the moment.

Eventually, Agent Carter wiped the tears from her eyes and rolled onto her side, facing him. The neck of her tee rode low, and he caught a glimpse of her collarbone and just a hint of her decolletage beneath. He stopped laughing.

“We make quite the pair, Mr. Rogers,” she said, stretching out her arms. He looked back at her, askance. She groaned as she sat up, “Neither of us are seen as fit for active duty, yet it’s all we want in the world.” 

“We’re still serving the war effort,” Steve retorted, stung. “We’re not useless.”

“We may as well be toting a little red wagon, collecting scrap metal,” She clenched her hands into fists, and Steve unconsciously echoed the gesture with his own. “You fetch coffee and keep Erskine’s notes. I supervise the dumbest lot of recruits this side of the Atlantic and fetch Phillips’s antacid. We could both do so much more.” She regarded him for a moment, eyes blazing, “I know you feel the same. You’re so tense with anger all the time. I know that feeling, Steve.”

He couldn’t hold her gaze. Sighing, he said, “I don’t see how it can be any other way. I’d rather do something than nothing.”

She shook her head and got up off the floor, moving towards her things. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” He asked, feeling that anger rising, “Sure, I’m pissed all the time. Pissed that Hodge will be chosen for something he doesn’t deserve, pissed that my best friend shipped off without me, pissed that Phillips calls me a gerbil to my face. Pissed that you…” He cut himself off, face turning red. “I’m pissed, Agent Carter, but there’s a war to win. The SSR doesn’t give a good god-damn whether I do this work with a fuckin’ song in my heart or if, in my head, I’m six-foot-two and giving Hodge what-for as I take my notes. I just take my notes. I do the job. That’s what we’re here to do.” Now he was breathing hard and a little light-headed. 

Agent Carter looked chagrined, but also still angry. There were twin spots of color blooming on her cheeks. Still her voice was even as she said, “I know my value. I was meant for more than this.” 

Steve ground his teeth together in frustration as she turned and stalked away. As she let the door slam behind her, he realized he’d never told her Erskine’s request.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks ago, Phillips had barreled into his office, grumping as usual, tossed his side cap onto his desk as usual, lowered himself into his chair with a grunt as usual and reached directly for the good scotch he kept in his bottom drawer, which was highly unusual at eleven hundred on a Thursday morning. From her desk in the corner, Peggy watched him out of the corner of her eye as he muttered to himself and she sorted through the pile of requisitions paperwork that needed his approval. She let him grumble for one quarter hour, then stood, locked the door to his office and brought over her own empty coffee cup.

“Out with it,” she said as he poured her two fingers’ worth, “obviously this will become my concern sooner or later.” Peggy had angled for this assignment within the Strategic Scientific Reserve for weeks. Michael had been working on the early stages of Dr. Erskine’s extraction in a joint operation between Britain and the US when he’d been killed. Still, just because she’d schemed to get here didn’t mean she had to tolerate the old man’s grousing if it served no purpose. 

Phillips rolled his eyes but didn’t reprimand her for her lack of deference. She knew well enough to keep it behind closed doors. “Had a meeting with Stark out in Queens yesterday at that damned fair.”

“The Expo,” she supplied, sipping her scotch. If the story involved Stark in any way, she needed to fortify herself. They had yet to meet, but Peggy was very well-acquainted with Stark Industries’ harried secretarial staff at this point. Stark would be providing crucial equipment to Project Rebirth, equipment he’d developed working in concert with the Dr. Erskine.

“That nutbar made a car float at least three feet off the ground,” here poor scandalized Phillips needed fortifying himself, “for all of a minute. We should have taken the deal with Roxxon, they’re not running around dropping cars out of the sky.” Phillips shook his head while Peggy waited for the point. “But Erskine thinks he’s the right man for the job.”

“Did the meeting not go well?”

Phillips sighed and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand, “Meeting was fine. I just happened by the recruiting office after, and this little guy was being detained for lyin’ on his papers, four separate times. Flat-feet, asthma, anaemia, heart troubles, you name it, this kid’s got it. But he’s still trying to join up, Carter.”

“He lied.” She sipped primly on her scotch, waiting to see what else Phillips might say about the man.

“Oh, don’t get self-righteous. You damn well told me you’d have tried for the RAF if the SSR hadn’t come calling. Imagine! You with short hair and that red lipstick you won’t give up,” He guffawed as if this idea had just occurred to him, but it was his favorite story to needle her with. It was also a bit of carefully embellished truth on Peggy’s part. She might well have gone for the RAF in those first few shell-shocked days after Michael’s death, were it not for the letter from Standard Operations Executive already in her bureau. If they hadn’t agreed to tell her details of Michael’s final assignment, she supposed she could have also gone off to the SIS. They might have had a more direct route to action for her, and certainly no need to disguise her gender. But then she’d learnt what Michael was doing, how he thought Erskine could help. Peggy wanted in. She wanted to finish the job for him. 

“I suppose I’d have had to choose a more mannish color, hm,” she smiled ruefully, “otherwise it would be a dead giveaway.”

Phillips chuckled, “I’d love to know just how long it would have taken those English prigs to figure it out. You know you’ve got balls bigger ‘n most of the men on this base.”

Preening internally, she sipped more of her scotch. “What became of the lad, then?”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “Ugh, I stepped in. Thought the kid might be more useful around here than sittin’ in jail.”

“What’s he to do here, sir? If he’s not eligible for service, I don’t know what work we could have…”

“You don’t waste that kind of fire, Carter. I took him to the Doc this morning, he’s been pestering me for an assistant. If he can take decent notes and find the Doc’s glasses for him, that’s one more thing off your plate.” He fixed her with that flinty gaze, “Don’t think I don’t notice that you’re in at sunup and here long after all the men shove off for the day. You know I depend on you Carter, but you’re going to work yourself sick trying to prove to everyone else you belong here.” He drained the last of his drink as she studied the cup she held in her lap, mouth gone quite dry. “If they haven’t come around yet, they’re not gonna. No use grinding yourself down for their benefit.”  
“Sir, I just…”

“Nope, this is an order, Agent. Take some time in the evenings. Get some exercise or somethin’. You’re not winning this war on your own, but we’re not winning it without you.” 

“Well, sir, I should hope not,” she retorted, “you men always make a right mess of things. Someone’s got to be around to keep you lot on track” She threw back the last of her scotch and that was the end of that conversation. Phillips stood, hitched up his pants and strode out the door like it was any other day, while she sat in her chair and considered the small, warm feeling in her chest. It was like pride, only more than, and she was sure she hadn’t felt quite like this since before Michael had died. She felt rather like she just might win the war.

Erskine’s new secretary did make life a little easier for Peggy. He was a quick study and able to manage the Doctor better than Erskine had been managing himself. He was no scientist, but Erskine was brilliant enough for them all, anyways, and only needed an intelligent human being to talk at most of the time, besides. The way Phillips had talked about him, Peggy had pictured a lad of 18 or 19, barely old enough to join the war effort. But Rogers was easily 25, and despite his small stature, or possibly because of it, he was a hard worker and quite smart. He’d spent the last few years clerking behind a desk, so his role as secretary came easily to him, even if he clearly wanted to fight. Peggy was obliged to spend time with him that first week, showing him the ropes. He was self-deprecating and sensitive, if a little awkward, but she admired the way he set his jaw when tackling a difficult task, and how kind and courteous he was with Dr. Erskine. Rogers also talked about a friend in the war, with a wry warmth that belied deep feelings for the man, despite his frustration at not serving, too. Peggy got the sense that, while Steve Rogers had lied, he’d done so with only the best of intentions. 

Since Rogers was now handling Erskine’s requisitions and office, Peggy took time in the evening to keep her other skills sharp. Phillips had ordered her to get some exercise, after all. She spent hours training on the same courses and equipment the men would train on, once the project was up and running. She completed the obstacle course well under the acceptable time frame they’d set and could fire a rifle and pistol with more accuracy than the shooting instructor. She’d been in good shape all her life, participating in sports at school and taken to the physical aspects of training for work with the SOE like a fish to water. Her hand-to-hand combat had received top marks, and she’d kept up the calisthenics even on this decidedly less physical assignment with the SSR. The recruits for Project Rebirth reported in three days after Rogers, but Peggy couldn’t bank on all of them being as dumb as Hodge and constantly obliging her with the use of their faces as punching bags. 

Carter and Phillips turned their attention to the project candidates. Erskine had a different, more esoteric set of criteria which Peggy had been instructed to ignore if they countermanded the results of the tests the military had developed. Privately, she thought the man designing the serum should have a bit more say, but as Phillips had told her, there was a war on, they weren’t looking for men to rescue puppies from trees. This had been after the scotch had come out one evening, but Peggy was hard-pressed to argue with the basic premise.

Each man was at peak physical condition, but there were some more inclined to follow orders, to display ambition, and to strut about like peacocks. Unfortunately, whether or not Agent Carter liked any of the candidates was not high on Phillips’s priorities list. And Gilmore Hodge, despite being an utter bastard, was fast, strong, took orders and his father was a friend of Senator Brandt. That final point certainly helped, if only so Phillips could tell Brandt his golden boy had been chosen and stop sending daily telegrams. 

Peggy was less than impressed, but Phillips had shouted her down and threatened to send her packing if she didn’t fall in line. “He’s only the first, Carter. You’re not gonna like ‘em all. Hell, knowing you, you won’t like most. But you’re ineligible so we gotta pick someone, damnit.”

Peggy stammered but couldn’t respond. She was already red-faced from their fight, embarrassed she’d not done a better job concealing her desire. She fought against a sudden, stupid rush of tears. “Listen, girl,” Phillips continued, no less gruff but no longer yelling, “you aren’t half as sneaky as you think you are, training at all hours. It’s admirable, how you want to fight, but it just isn’t done.” Instead of crying in front of him, Peggy made a hasty retreat to the gymnasium to punch things until the feeling passed. She was there for quite a while, until Rogers found her.

They’d gotten into a row, too, because that was just how Peggy’s night was shaping up. Little Steve, the only person on base she thought might understand her. Angry Steve, who wanted to serve just as much as she did, with his self-discipline and his damned sense of honor, sublimating everything he wanted just to be a part of this project. Steve, who was now knocking on the door of her tiny cabin. She’d just come out of the shower, a towel in her hair and robe cinched tight at her waist. His blue eyes were huge as he took in the sight of her. “No need to stare, Rogers, just because I’m out of uniform. It’s allowed when I’m off-duty.” She put as much ice in her tone as she could muster, but truthfully, she was tired. She sat on her little cot and gestured him inside.

He blushed beet red, the way he nearly always did when she spoke to him. It was so inconveniently endearing. Even the tips of his ears turned pink if he was at it long enough. Peggy wondered fleetingly what it might be like to nibble on one. He looked everywhere but directly at her, flustered, and Peggy sighed. “Can I help you?”

“Peggy, I mean, Agent Carter, I just wanted to er,” he swept his hair out of his eyes, “What I came here to say is, uh.” He stopped himself, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he looked directly at her. “I’m sorry for shouting at you. You are the strongest, smartest woman I’ve ever met.” 

He paused for a moment, but Peggy just sat there. “I understand why you’re angry. I’m angry, too, all the time. You were right about that. But seeing you, the way you channel it into something productive. The way that fire fuels you,” he took a step closer to her, “I just wanted to tell you that it will have been the most important privilege of my life to have worked beside you. I hope you know I respect you more than anyone on this base.”

What else could she do in that moment but kiss him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I _thought_ this was going to be a 2-chapter fic, but it's definitely turned into 3.  
>  Many, many thanks to plumandfinch for all her help with this one (and being the best fangirl friend this littlerey could ask for.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter, see end for notes
> 
>  
> 
> I seem to have severely underestimated my first multi-chapter fic. Next one is the final one, though, cross my heart!

As far as first kisses went, Steve supposed this one at least gave them significant room for improvement. The angle was awkward, as he wasn’t used to standing over anyone, and he’d bumped his nose against her cheekbone as she reeled him in. Still, when they broke apart his heart was racing and he could see color rising in Agent Carter’s cheeks.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, her voice low. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Well, it wasn’t the reason I came to see you, but, uh,” he shrugged, pushing his bangs off his face again, “you won’t catch me complainin’.” He smiled down at her and she grinned back. He hesitantly cupped her cheek in his hand, “I can’t lie and say I don’t think about kissing you, but I want to be clear that’s not why I think you’re amazing.”

In response to his declaration, Peggy tugged him down onto the cot next to her and kissed him again, with a bit more precision and a great deal more feeling. She’d found herself thinking of him in quiet moments ever since he’d arrived. He was so different than the men she’d been working with, so very far removed from Fred and his ilk. Peggy had registered his admiration of her, of course, it would have been difficult not to notice it. Unlike the other men around her, though, Steve hadn’t demanded a single thing or tried to impress her. He never assumed she was capable of less, or acted as though she were anything less than competent. He’d simply treated her as another person, despite his obvious romantic interest in her. It was, she found, a supremely attractive quality in a man.

It was a bit of an understatement to say Steve was gratified to have the opportunity to practice kissing Peggy so soon after their first attempt. 

He tried to breathe normally, but still felt a bit lightheaded as her lips slotted against his. The scent of rosewater lingered in the damp hair slipping loose from her towel. He kept his hand at her face, thumb sliding along the strong line of her jaw. His other hand he reached up to cover hers where it gripped his collar. Peggy tangled her fingers with his, warming them. She nudged closer to him, her hand resting beside his hip on the cot as she leaned forward into the kiss. He was acutely, painfully aware of every inch of his body in relation to hers, and he pulled back to take in a deep breath. She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, the vee of her robe perilously close to revealing far more than the quick, shallow breaths she was taking.

“Agent Carter,” he started.

“Peggy,” she corrected, smoothing her hand over his rumpled collar.

He cleared his throat and took her hand in both of his, “Not that I want to interrupt this, but Dr. Erskine is meeting with Mr. Stark, and they’ve asked that you join them to go over a few details. Stark has a location in mind for Friday’s test.”

Peggy sighed and removed her towel, blotting at the still-wet strands. “That’s one way to ruin a mood, Steve.”

 

Over the next few days, Steve treated her much the same as before, even as they toiled together late into the night ensuring Erskine and Stark had all they needed. All four of them left for the city on Thursday afternoon to make a solid check of preparations at the Brooklyn base. Phillips would join them Friday morning, with Hodge and Senator Brandt in tow. 

After a deliriously long day, Stark insisted on taking Erskine out for a late supper. He’d offered them all rooms at his townhouse in Manhattan, waving his hand when Peggy protested that they already had accommodations at the base. “We’re all about to change the course of human history, and you want to spend the night before on a camping cot in a basement? I won’t stand for it.” Erskine was rather easy to convince on that point, given the supply of schnapps at Stark’s was considerably more than that at the base, and Steve and Peggy knew enough not to leave him to his own devices when schnapps were involved. 

While Stark showed the doctor around the rest of the place, Steve made sure Erskine’s things were in order in Stark’s most opulent guest room. Luckily, they’d scheduled the procedure for late in the afternoon. Steve supposed he had some insightful secretary of Stark’s to thank for that. That or Peggy. The day before they’d announced Hodge as the first pick, Steve had needed her help assisting him back from Phillips’s quarters, where the two had drank and argued and drank and, surprisingly, sang until the very late hours. 

Steve thought about Peggy all the time before she’d kissed him, his attraction to her sort of a low-level humming present throughout his days and nights on base. Now that they’d kissed, well, it was like the humming was all he experienced, all the time. He wondered if he might find a few minutes alone with her here at Stark’s tonight. He wondered if she would seek him out, or if he should find her. He knew he’d stayed professional, but maybe she was rethinking what must have been an impulsive moment for her. 

Peggy interrupted his thoughts with a knock on the jamb.

“All squared away? Howard insisted we help ourselves to a nightcap, but I’m stopping at just the one.” She smiled at him, easy and warm, and Steve felt something loosen in his chest, “No telling what those two will get up to with a fully stocked bar, even with tomorrow’s main event.” At his nod, she turned on her heel and walked off towards what Stark had called the library. It was one of many rooms in the place that held an entire bar’s worth of booze, but it did indeed have a set of built-ins filled with handsome leather-bound volumes. 

Howard’s Manhattan apartments were much more comfortable than the base they’d intended to stay at, Peggy had to admit. She was not entirely sure he hadn’t asked them all here with the intention of sleeping with her, at first, but at dinner it became clear the only thing he was after was Erskine’s brilliant mind. Stark had extolled the virtues of both the East and West Coast Stark Industries R&D labs, and Erskine, the canny fellow, had played him like a harp through four courses. Now that Stark had broken out the good stuff back at home, Peggy was quite certain there would be a contract with the doctor’s signature on it by morning. 

She perused her options, lined up neatly on the bar. Sweating on one corner is an ice bucket, and Peggy wondered idly if it was always kept stocked when Howard’s at home or if this is just for company. A seltzer bottle sat next to it, along with a few other mixers and a small array of garnishes, but she’s in the mood for something simpler. She poured herself two fingers of whisky and dropped in an ice cube. Steve arrived just as she’d settled in on a beautiful leather club chair in the corner by the window. He ignored the bar and moved to sit in the chair opposite. They sit in silence for a while, Peggy sipping on her drink, Steve running his gaze over the books on the shelves. The Tiffany lamp to his right cast him in a golden glow, and Peggy found herself watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly, no doubt trying to come up with something to say. 

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

He blinked over at her, “Me?” He considered the question for a moment. “I’m nervous right now,” he admitted with a grin, “but it’s, uh, not about tomorrow.”

She couldn’t hold back a little smirk at that. The power she had over him could be rather intoxicating, and she knew she had to keep herself in check not to exploit it, or him, especially since she truly liked him so well. Still, it was a heady reversal. 

“Are you laughing at me, Agent Carter?”

“No, certainly not, Steve. To be frank, I can’t help but find your honesty charming.”

He shook his head and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. “You know, maybe this is my inexperience showing, but I’m getting whiplash over here from how quickly you seem to change your mind about me.” At her look, he continued, “Not that I don’t understand what you’re up against, but these past few days, even when we’ve been alone, you haven’t seemed to find anything charming about me at all.” He shrugged. “I’ve been starting to think you regretted kissing me.”

“Does that sort of thing happen often?”

He shrugged again, “Not much opportunity, really. Not many girls lining up to dance with a guy they might step on, you know?”

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste, Steve. To answer your question, no, I haven’t changed my mind.” She considered him for a moment. “You must have danced, though?”

He got up and went over to the bar. “Nah. Sort of waiting for the right partner, really. And recently, with all that’s going on, it just hasn’t seemed so important.” He brought the bottle over to top her glass up, “What about you? I can’t imagine you have any shortage of fellas, even with the war on.”

“Like you, I haven’t really seen the point since I started with the SOE. I was engaged before that.”

“What happened?”

“My brother died.” Her eyes went soft when she talked about him. “He’d tried to recruit me into the SOE before, but I’d just said yes to Freddie and had gone foolish with all the wedding plans. I honestly thought, for a little while, that I could be happy as some man’s wife, lunching in town with other wives and keeping house.” Her smile was rueful. “Michael’s death reminded me that’s not who I am.”

“You’re Peggy Carter.” When she looked at him, Steve’s eyes were shining with something she couldn’t quite place.

She clinked her glass with his, “You’re damn right I am.”

 

The test went exactly according to plan, until it didn’t. One moment, Dr. Erskine, Howard and their assorted assistants are gathered around Hodge as he emerges from the tube, and the next is chaos. The serum and Howard’s gamma radiation have done their job, from what Peggy could tell from the gallery: Hodge was considerably larger than he’d been when he’d gone in. There is a thick ridge of muscle prominent where his neck meets his shoulders, giving him a rather squashed appearance even if he is now several inches taller. That was as much as she could catalog of his enhanced physique, however, as his skin began to bubble and crawl and Hodge began to scream in agony. Beside her, Steve grabbed for her hand and she clasped it tightly. 

As technicians and nurses rushed in to help, a single shot rang out from behind Peggy and Steve. Erskine looked up into the gallery and Steve saw a shocked look of recognition pass across his face. Then he crumpled to the floor, blood spreading across his chest. Peggy had leapt from their row of seats directly onto the shooter, and mashed his face into the floor while she knelt on his spine, holding his arm at a painful angle. Steve rushed to Erskine’s side while everyone around him tried to calm the frenzied, writhing Private Hodge. 

A quick-thinking nurse jabbed Hodge with a needle and he dropped like a stone, still wailing but clearly incapacitated. While the drugs took effect, several people turned to help Steve with Erskine, who had developed a frightening wheezing rattle with each labored breath. He was bleeding sluggishly, and Steve’s trousers and shirt were quickly stained red as he did the only thing he could think to do and held his hand pressed tight over the wound. Someone takes over for Steve and another person gently pulls him away as they load Erskine onto a stretcher and rush him off. Steve’s hands won’t stop shaking. 

A group was still milling around Hodge, including Howard and Phillips. His skin had taken a ghastly grey pallor and even under heavy sedation, the man whimpered and twitched while scientists prodded him and referred to their clipboards with puzzled expressions. Phillips barked orders at the staff while Howard shouted half-nonsense and hopped around, flapping his hands. Eventually, Phillips turned on him and sent him out of the room to work through the seven different possible issues and thirty-odd half-solutions he was spouting. A second stretcher was brought in to cart Hodge out. It took six men to lift him onto it, and the wheels creaked ominously as they wheeled him slowly out. Casualties sorted, Phillips turned his attention back to the gallery and the would-be assassin. 

Peggy dug her knee into the man’s back as he gasped and struggled in her grip. “Hold bloody still,” she growled through her teeth. She could feel his jaw working under her hand, perhaps to say something, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Several men stood around her, including Senator Brandt, who had picked up the man’s gun and now dangled it between his fingers like a dead mouse. 

“Carter! Good work, you can let someone else take over from here.” Peggy leaned harder into the man’s back until she heard a satisfying grunt of pain, then she released him into the waiting arms and handcuffs of two military personnel. 

She saw the man work his jaw again, and he bared his teeth while he spat “Hail Hydra” at the crowd, then he bit down hard and began to foam at the mouth. He collapsed and was dead within seconds, the men holding onto him left gaping in surprise.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Phillips swore, “can’t anyone here do their fucking jobs today?” He ran a hand through his thinning hair and turned away from the body, surveying the disaster in the lab below. “Someone clean up this mess. Senator Brandt, I believe that man was with you. Why don’t you come to my office and explain how a Nazi operative got a front row seat to our little shitshow.” He stalked off, a stuttering Brandt trailing behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for blood, starting after "The test went exactly according to plan, until it didn’t."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's two chapters and nearly 7K words longer than I originally intended, but my first multi-chapter fic is finally finished.

An hour after all hell broke loose, Steve had cleaned himself up and found fresh clothes, though he’d needed to cuff the shirt sleeves and trousers several times. He sat in a small, windowless room with Howard Stark, who paced as he raced through Erskine’s many notebooks. Steve plodded through his own stack at a far slower rate, looking for the few key words Stark had advised might answer their questions about the serum’s failure in Hodge. 

Phillips banged into the room, Peggy trailing behind him. “Didja figure out what went wrong yet?”, he barked. Howard and Steve stared at him with glazed-over eyes. Phillips gave a curt nod. “All right, get out of here. You’re no good to me today, I’ve got meetings and phone calls and all hell raining down on me for the Nazi who managed an assassination attempt right under my damn nose. We can work the other problem tomorrow.” He turned on his heel to leave.

“Sir?” Steve called after him. Phillips turned back. “You said-- what I mean is, did Dr. Erskine make it?”

“Yup. Carter can tell you more, she’s off duty for the rest of the day, too.” With that, he strode out the door.

“He came through surgery just fine, Steve. The doctors expect a full recovery.” She stepped a little closer to him, her eyes soft. “Your quick thinking probably saved his life.”

Steve shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, I doubt I’m the only one who saved a life or two today, Agent.” He looked up at her. “You were amazing.”

He was rewarded with a tired smile and felt his heart speed up.

“Well, this is nice, kids, but if I don’t have to stay any more, I’m not gonna stick around for the rest of the show,” Howard drawled. He gave Peggy as stern a look as he could muster. “I’m taking these documents home with me, and you’re not going to say boo about it.”

“Documents? What documents?” 

Howard nodded. “Damn right. Come on, let’s go have a good stiff drink and then get back to work.”

They wound up back at Stark’s townhome that night with the stacks of notes Howard and Steve had managed to smuggle out of the base. Erskine left the hospital against orders in favor of convalescing somewhere more safe and far more comfortable and met them there. Steve and Peggy, along with the incredibly prompt nurse Howard expressly hired to monitor the doctor, went through the apartments, methodically removing all variations of schnapps from every conceivable hiding place, lest the doctor be tempted to further contravene his recovery plan.

“Hodge was the wrong choice, I knew it from the start,” Erskine wheezed. 

Howard shrugged, “I don’t really think personality has much to do with his skin peeling off, Doc.”

Erskine shook his head, “The serum works primarily on amygdala, damnit. If someone is already prone to a certain type of emotional reaction, that is heightened when the serum is introduced. I’ve seen it before, Stark.” Erskine stopped to catch his breath.

“Emotional? Hodge really didn’t seem like the weeping type.”

Steve bit back a laugh, but Peggy didn’t bother hiding her own scorn. “He means any emotion, Howard. Anger, fear, happiness.” Howard still looked puzzled, and she rolled her eyes.

Steve nodded thoughtfully, “Hodge had a temper.” 

Erskine looked at him, eyebrows raised. “It’s more than that, Steven,” he prodded.

Steve shrugged, “Well, he picked on the other guys. He lashed out at the staff who ranked below him. He was a bully, really.”

“Yes, yes,” Erskine said, “this is what I’ve found to be most important. The way a person channels their emotions can have a profound effect on the serum’s manifestation in the body.”

Steve’s gaze swung to Peggy. “So the problem really was with the candidate.”

“I believe so. I just have yet to test the serum on the ideal subject.”

Howard looked from Steve to Peggy, then back to the doctor. “And if you had that right candidate, doc? You’d have no reservations about another test?”

“None.”

“So,” Steve said slowly, “remind me of your requirements for this ideal candidate?” He shuffled through a pile of notes and came up with a notebook and a pencil, the latter of which he tapped against his full bottom lip while he squinted down at a blank page. 

“Oh Steven, you know this as well as I. Someone who is analytical, grounded, hardworking.” Erskine paused and groaned a bit while he levered himself up. Peggy rushed to his side to rearrange the pillows behind him. “Thank you, Agent Carter.”

“Would kindness be on the list?” Howard was squinting now, too. 

“Yes, definitely. Or perhaps selflessness. A sense of duty, and a strong moral compass.”

“Hmm,” Steve agreed, scribbling across his paper, “Tenacity. A do-or-die spirit.”

“Gumption,” Howard interjected. “Probably a little bit of an ego.”

“Confidence,” Erskine corrected him, “they must have the courage of their convictions and the confidence to see things through.”

“You know what, boys,” Steve mused, raking his eyes back over the list, “we’ve said nothing about gender.”

Peggy’s head snapped up, her eyes flying from Steve to Erskine, who sat with a bemused smile on his face.

“Golly, it sure doesn’t,” Howard said with a smirk. He brandished an empty tumbler and poured himself a generous measure of brandy from a snifter Steve was absolutely sure hadn’t been in the room fifteen minutes ago. 

“So, the question is,” Steve said, looking at Peggy full-on now, “do we know a someone who meets these criteria and happens to have also passed all the Army’s qualifying tests with flying colors?”

“Well, Steven, you might know better than I, you’ve been working very closely with Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter.” Erskine tipped his head in Peggy’s direction and looked up at her. “I think, though, there might be one candidate.”

Through this whole conversation, Peggy stood, stock-still and flabbergasted. She knew what she wanted, she’d been doing everything within her power to prepare for it, but she’d never truly believed that a roomful of men could even entertain the idea, let alone apparently agree. She held her breath as Howard sipped his brandy and raked his eyes over her, assessing in a way that was so completely frank and non-sexual, he hardly looked like himself.

“What do you say, Peg? Think you’d give it a go tonight, even after today’s disaster of a test?”

Peggy gaped at them, completely at a loss for perhaps the first time in her adult life. Could she do this? Of course she could. Without question, Peggy knew she was born to go charging ahead, consequences be damned. But she wasn’t the only person with something to lose here, and Steve and Erskine, at least, could face severe repercussions. Her shoulders climbed steadily towards her ears as she processed everything.

Steve moved to her side and took her hand in his. “It’s a lot, Agent Carter. You don’t have to say yes.” 

She looked down into his open face and blinked. “It’s not me I’m worried about, Steve. You lot could get into a world of trouble even if things go well.”

Steve looked past her, beaming at Erskine. 

The doctor rolled his eyes. “Yes, Steven, she checks all the boxes. You were right all along.” He tried for an exasperated look, but couldn’t keep a note of fond pride out of his voice.

“Agent Carter,” Howard cut in, “I hope your dance card is free tonight.” He waggled his eyebrows at the assemblage, “You’ve got a date with destiny.” 

Steve didn’t quite manage to stifle his groan.

 

Sneaking back into the base in Brooklyn turned out to be a non-issue. Peggy simply strode through the front door exactly as she had that morning, Steve and Howard trailing behind. No one questioned their purpose there, and the medical bay was deserted. Still, Steve held his breath as he decanted the serum into the individual vials, willing his hands not to shake. Once Howard threw the switch, it would be fairly hard to hide what they were doing, but they’d also have reached the point of no return by then.

Peggy readied a shot of penicillin for herself and Howard repaired a connection that had shorted during the earlier attempt. 

“Steve, would you help me with this?” She held up the needle and he swallowed hard as his mouth went suddenly dry.

“Uh, I don’t, I mean, that’s supposed to…” He slotted the last vial into the machine, hands shaking uncontrollably now, and took a deep breath, “Agent Carter, it might be best if you administer that yourself. There’s a curtain over there you can step behind.”

She fixed him with a puzzled frown, “You really can’t help me with this? I thought your mother was a nurse.”

“She was,” he said haltingly, “which is why I know that shot needs to be administered to your…” He stopped himself again, blushing a furious scarlet and tugging at his tie. “It needs to go into the muscle of your, er, your…” He took a deep breath. 

“Out with it, Rogers, before you give yourself an asthma attack!” Howard was never as helpful as he meant to be.

“Peggyyouneedtostickyourselfinthebumwiththat,” Steve mumble-whispered so quickly, all Peggy caught was her first name at the start.

“What?”

“Your ass, Carter!” Howard’s gleeful cry was cut short as he zapped himself on a loose wire. “Shit!”

Steve looked like he wanted to die, but he forged ahead, “Take the needle, and jab it into the, uh, gluteus maximus, preferably at your--at its r-r-r-roundest part. That’s where you need to administer it, into a major muscle. There’s a curtain over there you can use for privacy, you shouldn’t stick yourself through your clothes.” Steve cleared his throat and turned back to the serum.

“I’ll help you out, Agent. We’ve got time to duck behind the curtain and--”

“I’ll see to myself just fine, if it’s all the same to you, Mr. Stark!” Peggy called out as, her own face in high color, she strode behind the privacy screen and took a few deep breaths. 

Once Peggy had sorted herself out, it all went rather quickly from there. Steve watched her get settled on the table, his eyes huge and mouth set in a firm line. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it turned a bit wavery as the momentous nature of their plan--what she was about to do--hit her. He reached for her hand and gave her fingers a quick squeeze. “All set?” She nodded and he rewarded her with a brilliant smile. “You’re the bravest person I know, Peg,” he murmured, bending over and fiddling with something near the head of the table so only she could hear. 

Then the table was moving, the injection pads settled over major muscle groups and the pod closed around her. She had the sudden thought that she should have freshened up her lipstick, damnit. And then her world was fire.

 

# ***

“Ma’am, I promise that we’ve got the situation under control for the night,” Daniel Sousa looked up at Peggy from his desk just outside her office at the New York headquarters of the SSR. “Please go home. If you miss another date, you know I’ll never hear the end of it from Rogers.”

Peggy scribbled her signature across a few last reports and rolled her eyes at her Deputy Director. “He’s leaving on assignment in the morning, you won’t have to hear a thing about it. And I’m not going to miss it,” she called out.

“You’ll just be late?” Steve interjected from her doorway.

“Darling!” Peggy smiled, “I thought we were meeting at the club. I still have to go home and change.”

“I know, I know,” he scrubbed a hand through the hair at his nape, “I just thought you might need a little encouragement to actually leave the office on time, Director.”

Daniel snorted and, at Peggy’s sharp glance, buried his nose back in the pile of reports he was working on.

“Neither of us got to where we are by leaving at five on the dot, Steve,” Peggy sniped, but she reached for her jacket and hat all the same. 

“You’re right, some of us got there by being Captain America,” Steve drawled.

“Ha, that’s a good one, Rogers,” Daniel laughed.

“A bit heavy-handed on the compliments, my dear,” Peggy’s demure tone belied the thunderous look she shot at Steve.

He offered a one-shouldered shrug in response, “Just sayin’, if anyone in real life comes close to to the legend, it’s you, Pegs.” He winked, his blue eyes twinkling as he watched her pin her hat into place.

“A female Captain America?” Peggy allowed herself a small smile. “Who would believe such a thing?”

Steve raised his eyebrows at her and offered his arm, “Shall we? I don’t want to keep the crew waiting. It’s not every day you get to celebrate the fifth anniversary of V-E day with the people who helped win the war.”

 

Later, in a back room at the club, Monty and Jones returned with the latest round of drinks to Dum Dum and Bucky arm wrestling while holding their beer mugs in their non-dominant hands. The entire group howled with laughter as Bucky sweated and cursed and sloshed beer over himself, and the whole thing ended quite quickly with Dugan as victor. 

Peggy couldn’t believe how it all had turned out, that these men had served with her, taken orders from her, and more than that, had come to respect and even love her. She’d had to fight for it, especially with Bucky and Dugan, but they were all good men. They figured out quickly enough what a good team they had with Peggy leading them in the field and Steve acting as their main intelligence liaison while he assisted Colonel Phillips with strategy and Howard with his efforts on the Commandos’ behalf. Of course, their first meeting had done quite a bit to pave the way for their acceptance of her. That was bound to happen when you jumped out of a plane and single-handedly raided a Hydra base, even if you were a woman, she supposed.

Still, even after everything that happened during the war, she’d braced herself for the inevitable as she watched the women around her be demoted or phased out to make room for all the men returning from battle like she was. But instead, Phillips had recommended her for service at the Strategic Scientific Reserve, and Steve alongside her. The partnership the three of them had built since was the entire foundation of the SSR’s post-war operations, and when Phillips was promoted to a major role at the Pentagon, he’d secured the director role for Peggy. 

“Who’s next?” Dum Dum bellowed, before he downed his beer and belched. “Peg!” 

Several of the men cheered him on, but Peggy only examined her manicure and took a sip of her scotch. Steve leaned in to murmur in her ear, eliciting a bright smile.

“Aww, Dum Dum, you’re just asking for a world of hurt. You think the soldier that saved our asses from a whole damned Hydra factory would do anything but wipe the floor with you?” Bucky said.

Dugan grinned back at him, “Maybe I like it that way, Barnes,” and he winked at Peggy. 

Steve snorted into the beer he was nursing. Bucky let out a strangled “Ha” and flushed beet red. 

Peggy smiled and rolled her eyes, “Nice try, Dugan, but I’m not feeling the need to prove myself all over again to you lot tonight.” 

Dum Dum laughed and shrugged, “Whatever you say, Carter.”

“Damn right,” Steve mumbled half into his glass, but Peggy heard it all the same, “She’s Peggy Carter.” 

“And they should do as I say, hmm?” She asked Steve in a low voice so only he would hear. 

He flushed a little but met her gaze, “Got us all this far, didn’t it?” 

Peggy hummed and cocked her head, “I’ve half a mind to list all the ways you haven’t followed your own advice since we met, Agent Rogers,” she smiled, “but I think I’d rather go dance.” 

Steve stood up so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet, but once he’d steadied himself he reached out a hand to her, “Director Carter, I’d love nothing more than to have this dance.” 

They reached the door just as Stark and Erskine arrived. The doctor only gave them a nod and a closed-mouth smile as he headed for the bottle at their table, but Stark stopped and clapped Steve on the back, “Rogers, my boy, we need to talk! There’s a new initiative, very clandestine, very well-funded, and with Super-Peg keeping the Soviets busy, we--”

“Later, Howard,” Peggy threw over her shoulder as she and Steve swept past him.

“Okay then! It’s gonna be big though! The future of global intelligence-- Hiya, fellas, who’s got a drink for me?”

As Peggy and Steve neared the floor, the band transitioned into a slow number. They’d danced before, plenty of times, but Steve’s hand still shook just a little as he tucked Peggy’s into his grip. He pulled her close, his arm around her waist, and she ducked her head to rest her cheek against his.

“Hard to believe it’s been five years, isn’t it?” He asked.

She breathed out a sigh, “Seems like so much longer.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but in the best way.” He felt her smile and took a deep breath. “You’re happy, aren’t you, Peggy? With me?”

She pulled back, her brows knit close together, “Of course I am, darling. Why do you ask?”

He smiled up at her, “Because you’ve made me happy, from the first day we met.” She relaxed back into his arms, and they swayed a bit with the music. “Also, I thought I should double check, before I ask you to marry me,” he said, just before twirling her.

Peggy laughed and her face lit up. As Steve reeled her back in, she brought a hand up to his face, “Steve Rogers, how could I say no?” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, “You’re are the reason I am who I am.”

Steve beamed, but shook his head, “You know you’ve always been exactly who you are.”

“Well then,” her voice was fond, “You’ve always loved me for exactly who I am.”

He kissed her soundly, and they were both panting a bit as they parted. “Can’t argue with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many, many thanks to [ plumandfinch ](http://plumandfinch.tumblr.com), without whom this fic would never been written. All the yelling really helped, dear friend.
> 
> Also thanks to my spouse, who talked me out of the corner I'd written myself into, even though he hadn't even read the fic (yet.)


End file.
